Butterfly Kisses

 

The sound of rain tapping hard on the roof and the howling wind against the window pane sound like a classical music to her nerves that stimulate all her dying senses. She looked up at him as he drifted off silently. How peaceful you are, she thought, like a sweet child unknown of the harsh blanket clouting your little playground. His shallow breathing formed a light moist against her forehead; sweet and tender with a tinge of grapes. She closed her eyes as she reminisced about how she loved it; nights spent in a cold and dark room as the two of them seek fire from each other’s touch. As though their skins are of great combination to ignite flames through a delicious friction only them could make. She gently skimmed his bare chest with her candle-like fingers, savored every inch of his flesh, every chest hair that seemed like unstrummed guitar strings. She left butterfly kisses on and felt the warmth of his soft lips. Continue reading “Butterfly Kisses”

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See You Again

I stare at the journal resting in my clammy and trembling hands, couldn’t summon to look in her pained eyes as guilt hits me with promises that never come to reality. Standing right now with her, at the cottage near the end of a beach boardwalk where together we smiled, laughed and shared our darkest secrets, she seems away from me—facing further in the sea. Then she turns—blank from the hints of her emotions. I pause for a moment, trying to gather words that could fit. I have no right to keep her long for nothing.
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To my dearest one

To my dearest one,

I swear to cherish you in times of happiness and misery, dry your tears away whenever the odds seemed to have gone against you, make you laugh despite of the rainy day, kiss your broken heart, hold you in your sleepless nights and protect you from the vicious cycle of this cruel world. I have never even met you, but I have loved you more than I loved anybody else and am more than willing to sacrifice my only life for your own safety expecting nothing in return, for I’m bound to offer my greatest love to you. That, you can guarantee as long as I live, until we meet again in the promises of paradise.

With love,
Your future mom.


Danica Aquino

 

Featured image courtesy of www.organicconsumers.org

Joe and His Knock-Knock Joke

Joe and His Knock-Knock Joke

 

Joe’s heard a funny knock-knock joke on the TV, so he decided to drop all the toys on the floor and tell about it to his Big Brother. But Big Brother seems too happy fiddling with his phone, so he decided to find Mommy in the kitchen to tell his knock-knock joke. But Mommy simply shrugged him off and told him she was busy slicing carrots for dinner and rather go tell Daddy about it. Joe carried out and went to find Daddy occupied with papers spread across his office table. Joe came trotting around and tugged at Daddy’s trousers. But Daddy gently waved him away and told little Joe to play with Big Brother.

With pouting lips and drooping shoulders, he walked back to the living room and solemnly played with his toys. But after a while, he felt a wet nose snuggling his neck. When he turned to see what it was, he found Puppy too close to his face. With that, Joe’s arms flung in the air like a puppet, as his lips curled into a wide grin.

 

Scars

 

Her fingers are like compasses that knew, without even looking, where to trace displeasing marks left four years ago. One by one, slowly, they touched the fragile dotted flesh on her elbow, down to her left foot, the three coin-like keloids at her back torso and that one patch of still aching flesh on her back head. As fingers trace them, her mind races back to that very day: a Chinese man holding a rose close up to his nose, a book she just bought and the white truck. Her reconciliation knew perfectly that it was a white truck, but everyone proves her otherwise. Those things flashed frantically in her mind, making collisions of unwanted images as her body flew and concur barbarically against the hard, heated asphalt like a pile of papers scatters everywhere by the howling November wind. Before she figured it all out; before she felt pain staggering her every inch and the thick liquid spilled on the ground, consciousness was taken away from her. But she didn’t fall out of it, surely, someone must have done it for her.

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Kidnapped

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I gently put my make up on, like a painter drawing her masterpiece — face powder first, a little blush on and eye shadow, and then I brushed my lashes with mascara and a tint of red on my lips. I put on my yellow macramé bracelet he gave me two years ago to accentuate the white dress I’m wearing. I can only hope he’ll appreciate the way I look as together we witness the majestic scene of the full moon floating above the sea with its little dancing stars.

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